


The death of Mr. Cassidy

by PassedThroughFire



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Charles Xavier Needs a Hug, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Gen, Missing Scene, Sean deserved better, The reason for Charles closing the school before DoFP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29522400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassedThroughFire/pseuds/PassedThroughFire
Summary: Charles grieves one of the members of the first class and closes the school in 1970.
Relationships: Hank McCoy & Charles Xavier, Raven | Mystique & Charles Xavier, Sean Cassidy & Charles Xavier
Kudos: 5





	The death of Mr. Cassidy

It felt, at times, that Charles never got to grieve. He helped others through their grief and he talked people down from it, but sometimes it felt he never got the chance to do so. Then he would always remember that that was his own fault. He didn’t allow himself the time because the last time he had was 1970. 

The war had taken away the older students of his school, and some had even gone willingly. That, that he could have taken, maybe. Except, sentimental fool he was, he’d continue to check up on them. And as time went on, less and less of his pupils survived. With each dimming light in Cerebro, Charles could feel himself growing bitter, distrustful, angry at the humans he once swore to protect, enraged at the war that took away his children.

Angry at the man who took his sister. Logically he knew he told her to go, and he knew she would be happier among them, but for God’s sake, the man had paralyzed him. No matter how accidental, he felt he was owed a little resentment.

But still, he put on a brave face for the ones he still cared for, explaining the politics of the war when they asked, comforting them when they received news of a death in their families. He only really let himself show that anger around Hank when the younger man trained in the danger room.

But as time had gone on, American interference had decreased, and Charles knew there were still some of his children alive out there, waiting to be sent home.

As hard as it was, he still hoped.

He kept up his brave face, and his explanations and his comforts, and his few moments of rage in the danger room. He kept it together, he held on to hope.

It all came pouring out in November 1970.

He was just ushering some of the younger students out of his class when he’d felt a somber mind at his doorstep. He had gently pushed the children’s minds away from the area, as he’d done in the past, and opened the door before they could ring the doorbell.

“Yes?” 

“Good afternoon sir, is this the residence of one Professor Charles F Xavier?” A man in uniform stood before him with a wrapped package in hand. Charles raised an eyebrow, wondering if this military man had missed the sign.

“Yes, that’d be me, what can I do for you, sir?” 

“The United States Military has entrusted me to express their deep regret to inform you that your student, Private Sean Cassidy was killed in action in Saigon on November 3rd, 1970.”

When he would look back on this moment, Charles was fairly certain he’d stopped breathing.

“...What?” 

“He was injured by enemy fire and did not survive his trip back to base. We’re sorry for your loss, sir. He listed you as his next of kin.”

He started breathing again, holding a hand to his mouth, like that might stop the sobs building in his throat from coming out.

“These are his personal effects.” He handed Charles the package. After a moment of collecting himself, Charles took the box, sniffling. He opened it, finding a folded uniform, Sean’s dog tags, a scrap of black and yellow fabric, and a large photograph of the entire first class. Hank, Alex, Sean, Raven, Angel, Darwin, Charles, Moira, and Erik. They all looked so happy. He turned it over, finding Sean’s messy scrawl on the back.

_Hey Prof. Sorry I couldn’t make it back to you guys. I guess if you’re getting this, I’ll tell Darwin you said hi. I put you down as my next of kin cause y’know, you were technically my legal guardian for a while, and then you let me stay so you’re kinda like my dad in a weird way cause you’re only like ten years older than me. But yeah, sorry I couldn’t come back. Yours, Banshee._

_P.S. Don’t let Hank touch my shit._

Charles chuckled wetly as he put it back in the box, closing it back up. He sniffled, wiping at his eyes.

“Will he… Will his body be sent back?”

“Afraid not sir, the private requested he not be sent back.”

That got Charles’ attention. His head snapped up, looking at the man. This man held no remorse for Sean. Charles pressed into his mind, catching glimpses of disgust, pity, and most strongly of all:

Deceit. 

But Charles didn’t need his powers to know now that something was off. He gripped the box tightly. Sean was dramatic, he loved making people laugh, making himself laugh, and he had been known amongst the students for his showmanship with his powers, flying young kids all over the grounds to help them skip classes.

On the night the first class had arrived at the manor, everyone had raised a toast to Darwin, and of course, got stuck on the subject of death.

Erik had left as the conversation had switched topics. Alex had said that he wanted to have something quiet. Raven hadn’t even entertained the idea. Hank had shrugged, telling the others to donate his organs to the hospital. Moira wanted all her investigations published. Charles hadn’t really said much on the matter. But Sean had surprised them, saying he wanted his funeral to be a big party, that everyone there was there to celebrate his hip cool new life, and that it wasn’t going to be a cry-fest. He had also specifically requested that irish whiskey be served.

So for this man to lie to him, say that Sean Cassidy didn’t even want his body sent home, for Charles to know that something nefarious, something worse than war, had been involved in Sean’s, _his_ Sean’s death…

It shattered him.

He didn’t remember most of what came next.

He remembered crying. He remembered screaming, though he was unsure who it was that was screaming. He remembered yelling, he remembered somebody falling, he remembered a sharp pain, then blackness.

* * *

When he woke up he was in the infirmary, laid down on one of the cots, electrodes attached to his forehead.

“Charles?”

He shifted his gaze in the direction of Hank’s voice. He tried to look into his mind for the full story, but nothing happened. 

“Hank, why can’t I read your mind?”

“... Charles, I’m sorry.”

“Hank, what did you do?”

“You know the serum I made for myself? I… sort of used it on you.”

“Wh-why would you-”

“You were hurting them, the kids. They just started weeping unless they had decent mental shields,” Hank explained easily.

Charles paled and moved his gaze to the ceiling. 

He was silent for a long time, as the world around him. A world without Sean.

“... Send them home.”

“Who?”

“The children, Hank, send them home! I, I can’t do that to them again.” He closed his eyes, bringing his hands up to rub his face. “If they stay here, they are in danger, they must be sent home, you hear me?”

Hank put his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. It’ll be done. For now, just, just rest, okay?”

“Okay… By the way. Um, Sean wanted to… he, he wanted to tell you to not…” He couldn’t finish the sentence as he broke down again. “Oh god I want them back, I’m so sorry my boy,” he wept into his hands.

Charles was deaf to the minds of others for 3 more years until Logan arrived on his doorstep, but after that day in 1970, the world seemed a little too quiet for Charles, as he felt the absence of his favorite Banshee.


End file.
